“Yeah, totally, I’ll pinky-promise you!” Calypso’s smile lit up her face as the two of them locked pinkies. “Now you have to keep your word. Or else…” That last part was said ominously, before she wiggled her eyebrows right back at Caleb. Her playful side was definitely coming out today. Noticing her pancakes and coffee were gone, her eyes lit up with an idea. She could totally show off with that! But in a second…
She nodded along enthusiastically. “Oh, telekinesis! Sort of like a superhero… that’s super awesome. I’ve never been much of a pranker myself, but I can see the appeal, sort of?” In truth, she could not. Breaking the rules just for fun sounded anxiety-inducing, not fun. But she didn’t want to let this new guy know that she was lame right off the bat, did she? “I’m pretty sure Dakota likes pranks, though. They can go a little… far, but they’re funny sometimes. Yours are probably funny, too. I’m just not the best at pulling them, haha!”
Calypso glanced at the trash can all the way across the room, smiling. Time to show off a little. “Here, watch this!” With maybe a little more pomp than was necessary, Calypso cast one of her favorite spells- Magic Hands. Bright yellow arms took her plate and zoomed over to the trash can, dropping it in and zooming right back to her, where they dissipated back into her. She turned to Caleb again, noting Alayna’s comment. “Not divination, but it’s a pretty gentle spell,” she told them, putting her hands on her hips in triumph. “Aw, Alayna, don’t sell yourself short! You’ll be just as awesome as the elders someday, I bet. They were like us too, once. They’ve just had a lot more practice and a lot more time.”
Looking around at their surroundings, Calypso noted the clock. It was getting late in the morning, and she wanted to unpack and catch up with her new roomies before noon. She grabbed Alayna’s hand, giving a final smile and a wave to Caleb. “Come on, we should really go unpack and talk to Maggie before the elders make us do anything. I have a ton of cool decorations to put up. I call top bunk, though.” With that, Calypso raced up the stairs, taking Alayna with her.
June 22nd, 2020
1:30 AM
Baltimore, Maryland
Two figures stalked the streets, illuminated only by the faint, choked-out stars on the night of the new moon. It was a Sunday night, which meant they were almost alone out on the streets. Most of the people of Baltimore had turned in for the night, but not these two. The night was their time, and they had work to do. One was carrying a large, heavy-looking duffel bag, and the other a tightly-sealed bottle of liquid. They walked quickly down the street, purpose-filled.
The figure in the red blouse checked her smartphone, tapping through the passcode and getting into Google Maps. “Make a left here,” she told her partner, putting her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. “The cemetery should be just right around this bend.” Her voice was soft, subdued, and young.
Truly enough, when they made that left, they came face to face with the cobbled stone walls of Baltimore Cemetery. The figure on the left, a tall, dark-haired, ashen man in a trenchcoat, gazed up at the walls. They weren’t there for sightseeing, that was for sure. “Alright,” he said, graveled, in a light Russian accent, “we’re going to need to climb.” In a flash, the man had climbed up onto the wall. He offered a hand to the young woman with the duffel bag. She took it, and in merely seconds, they were up over the wall and standing in the long grass of the cemetery.
Once they were over the wall, the young, pale woman pulled out a piece of paper. There were numbers and a name on it, and she peered closely at it. The man leaned over to read with her. It took her a moment to place themselves in the cemetery, but once she did, the woman pointed to the right of them. “He should be over there.” Her voice was a whisper, low enough for only her partner to hear. “Let’s go. We should have him dug up and the grave covered again long before the sun rises.”
The overhanging trees along the side of the walls shielded them from the eyes of anyone that might have been in the cemetery that night. They walked in the shadows, careful to avoid anything that might make noise. It wasn’t a long walk to where they wanted to be. 15 minutes at most. Arriving at a newer-looking gravestone, dirt freshly overturned, the woman deposited her bag on the ground and zipped it open. Without much of an effort, she pulled out two heavy-looking shovels, keeping one for herself and handing the other to the man standing beside her.
The younger woman, shovel in hand, walked up to the grave. She, too, had once been buried, had been dug up, just like they were about to do to this young man. Although it was dark without the light of the moon, she could still see. The gravestone read: Here Lies Brett Miller, 1996-2020. A short life, she mused, but an even longer unlife for Brett.
“Do you think he lived a full life?” she said, not quite to the man but not quite to herself. “Brett, I mean. He was young. A little older than I was, but still young.”
The man looked at her, furrowed his brows with annoyance, and shrugged. “I do not know,” he said, and dug his shovel into the dirt. “Marie told me that he was 24. Medical student at Johns Hopkins University. Smart man.” With an easy shove, he dug up an entire shovelful of dirt, flinging it to the side. “He will be useful to us. We can’t be picky nowadays.”
“I suppose,” she muttered, and began to dig herself.
Quickly, they dug. Slinging dirt to their sides at nearly inhuman speeds, they reached the coffin within half an hour. They barely even seemed to break a sweat, only the young woman looking winded at the end of it.
“Alright,” said the man, glancing around the cemetery. “We will have to be quick about this. Ingrid, pull him out.”
Ingrid- the woman in red- huffed. “Why does it always have to be me?” she muttered, before rolling up her jeans and climbing into the hole. She leaned down, put her hands on the rim of the coffin, and then, with a heave, popped it open. She was greeted with the smell of death, and made a face. “Ugh. Hopefully he’ll stop smelling once he wakes up…” With another heave, she threw him onto the grass, and climbed up after him.
“Do you smell?” The man joked. “I do not think so. The smell will fade once he comes back. Now, let’s fill the grave in. If all goes right, no one will ever know that he is gone.”
With a body besides them, the two began to fill in the grave. It was easy work, but Ingrid couldn’t keep her eyes off of the boy. He was young, buried in a plaid flannel and jeans. The bite marks were in his collarbone, only visible if you looked for it. He had been a medical student. How surprised would he be to be brought back to life? How repulsed to feed on others? Ingrid wouldn’t say that it was cruel to bring him back in this way. It was cruel to have bitten and killed him in the first place. But they had been decimated by the witches in Washington, and their group was down more than half of their members. They needed more bodies, more fighters, especially after they had split up.
Suddenly, footsteps came from the opposite end of the graveyard. Light pinged off of far-away headstones. Ingrid yanked her head up, on alarm, meeting the eyes of the man next to her. “It’s the groundskeeper,” she whispered. “What do we do?”
He cursed in a foreign language that sounded vaguely Slavic. “I was hoping this would not happen,” he whispered, urgently. “We cannot fill it in before he gets here. We need to take the body, give him the dose, and go. Hopefully, they will not catch us.” Without much effort, he heaved Brett’s body over his shoulder, and gestured for Ingrid to come.
They made it away and into the bushes just before the groundskeeper shone his light on the overturned grave. The man swore, yet again, in Russian. “Give him the blood, Ingrid.” He held out the bottle, looking grim. “Do it now. We don’t have time to lose before he comes over here and we’re found.”
With unsteady hands, Ingrid unscrewed the lid. “Prop his head up,” she hissed, and her partner did so, opening his mouth while he did it. Slowly, glancing behind her to see if anyone was coming, she poured the blood down his throat. The thick, red liquid dribbled out of his lips as she poured, but it didn’t matter.
Behind them, they could hear the groundskeeper coming upon the overturned grave. “What the hell…” he muttered, glancing into the dirt, seeing the closed coffin. Internally, Ingrid hoped he wouldn’t open it, but that wasn’t the case. He popped it open and screamed, jumping into the air. “Oh, hell, no. Hell no.” He pulled out his phone and began to dial 911, shining his flashlight over the grounds.
Ingrid cringed. They only had so much time left. But as the blood poured down Brett’s throat, he began to change. His limp body convulsed, still cold, but moving. She held him down on the other man’s lap, elbow on his throat, and kept pouring the blood down his throat. He’d wake up soon enough, she knew. His heart wouldn’t start beating, his skin wouldn’t become warm again, but he’d be alive enough.
Just then, as the groundskeeper was screaming into the phone for a police car to show, Brett’s eyes flew open. He gasped, coming back to life. Groggy and disoriented, he glanced around, panicked. “Wha-” he started, but Ingrid pressed her hand to his mouth.
“Shh. You’re alright. I’ll explain everything in a minute. We need to go, though. Now.”
The Russian man picked Brett up again, and he and Ingrid leaped over the cemetery walls, a panicky former med student in tow. The groundskeeper saw only a flash of something moving beyond his line of sight, rustling the tree branches. It was the wind, he thought, but couldn’t quite convince himself.
On the other side of the wall, Ingrid pressed the newly-awakened Brett to the wall. He was a pale man, brown-haired, blue eyes. Tall, but not too tall. Glasses. He looked… nerdy, she supposed. He gasped, searching behind them. For what, she didn’t know. Family? The last people he had seen when he had died?
“What… what happened to me?” He clasped and unclasped his hands, marvelling at being alive. “I was… in the hospital. And I think I… wait. Who are you? Where are we?”
Police sirens sounded in the background. With a certain urgency, the man stepped forward. “I am Dmitri. This is Ingrid. There is not much time for explanations. We must hurry now, we cannot be seen. You’re coming with us.” At Brett’s protests, Dmitri grabbed him tight by the bicep. “Quiet. I will explain later. Now come.” Glancing at Ingrid, Dmitri gestured to the street as the red and blue sirens cascaded down.
And then, they took off running, a blur as the two vampires took their new progeny with them.
June 24th, 2020
10:30 AM
The Coven House
The days after the initiation were spent settling into new routines and getting used to their newfound power. The elders allowed the initiates a well-deserved break after the chaos of the initiation, and Calypso spent it mostly getting to know her roommates and playing games with her magic. Dakota and her finally had that tree climbing competition, and, well… Calypso was short a ten dollar bill now. Her fault for challenging Dakota to a competition involving agility. Most of the elders had made it clear to them that, should they want it, they were willing to offer lessons, tips, and tricks about any sort of magic to the initiates. Calypso hadn’t taken advantage of it, too nervous of annoying them to ask, but wanted to. Overall, their first few days at the house were idyllic. She didn’t find herself missing city life at all. Not among the endless forests of the mountain, the wildlife she found here, and the serene nature. And not among her friends. Calypso had never felt it herself, but she started to feel connected to nature, like she was supposed to be.
It was nice getting to know new and old friends, too. Despite Alayna seeming a little intimidating, Calypso came to learn that she was just quite shy. Calypso had actually chuckled when she came to learn that she had gotten the two shy ones. Of course, she didn’t mind. They were her friends. It was just amusing. That party that her, Dakota, and Caleb had been talking about never did end up happening, to Calypso’s slight disappointment. Sister Lark had ended up scheduling a “late night fire chat”, which was oddly summer-campy in a way. Everyone had to show off with their magic and answer a few questions about it. It wasn’t very eventful, but it had run so late into the night that they had to cancel the party because they were all so tuckered out.
Too bad. Calypso had really wanted to win that favor.
That morning, Calypso got to sleep in late, as was her preference. Or, at least, late for the coven house- she woke up at 9:30. Since no one else had wanted it, she had claimed the top bunk as her own. Her comforter was a bright yellow, quilted affair, and she had a stuffed cat sitting by her pillow. Fortunately, Maggie and Alayna didn’t seem to be the type to make fun of people with stuffed animals, which was nice. With a yawn, Calypso awoke, and hopped down from her bed after 5 minutes of trying to get back to sleep. Maggie and Alayna were already gone, which was not much of a surprise. Eager for the day and maybe planning to take a hike (?) later, Calypso popped open her dresser drawer and threw on a yellow tank top and some jeans. She laced up her sneakers, threw on some makeup, and went downstairs to find something to eat.
She ended up pouring herself a bowl of Cheerios, of which there was a suspiciously large amount of. She scarfed it down at the kitchen island, browsing through her phone while she did. Not that she had much success with that. The service was shit up here. It only made sense, though. They were on a mountain, after all. More time to practice magic anyways. When she finished with her Cheerios, she washed out the bowl and put it in the dishwasher, and then went upstairs to go brush her teeth. Today was going to be so much fun! She’d practice magic with whoever, maybe go fishing with Charlie like he kept asking everybody…
However, before she got a chance to go find anybody else, Sister Lark popped her head into the bathroom. Calypso perked up, ready for something to do. “Oh, awesome! I finally found you.” Lark smiled, tight-lipped. She wasn’t wearing her robe (they seemed to be for special occasions only), but she was wearing a mid-length, playful pink dress, her curly hair down. Sometimes Calypso wondered how this woman was as old as she was, even though she was only in her early 30s. She dressed like a college English major. “Deborah wants you all upstairs in her office. Immediately. You’re needed for an assignment.”
Calypso gasped, excited. She couldn’t believe her ears. Her? Going on an assignment, just like her mom and so many of the grown witches did? “Oh my God! That’s so cool… what are we doing? Like, uh, exorcising some place or, or, um, um, helping out another coven or something? All of those sound so cool.” She could barely keep herself from jumping up and down in glee.
Lark shook her head and laughed lightly, seemingly amused at Calypso’s excitement. She put her hand on Calypso’s shoulder, nudging her out of the bathroom. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s a serious situation, Cal. You’ll… well, Deborah will tell you more. No need to give you the whole brief down here when you can get a better explanation upstairs. Come on.”
With Lark walking behind her, Calypso climbed the stairs up to the fourth floor, where Deborah’s office was. She had never been up to the fourth floor of the house, but she knew it was where all the elders lived and worked. When she got up there, it did seem a bit different from the rest of the house. Incense burned on one of the tables lining the hallway, and bundles of herbs, magical symbols, and old decorations lined the walls. There were even pictures and paintings of what seemed like old leaders and groups of witches. There was a window propped open at both ends of the hallway, letting the hot air out. This place was old, but homey. The witchiness of it all was strangely comforting.
Lark led her to a door at the end of the hallway. It was made of dark brown, sturdy wood, and had a “PLEASE KNOCK” sign hanging from it. Calypso shifted, nervous, but Lark was already opening the door. Almost everybody was already crowded inside of her office, having been collected by one elder or another through the hour. She nudged her way through the crowd of initiates. It seemed she was one a few stragglers- apparently, since she had been late to wake up, she had missed the memo. There were a couple other stragglers coming in after her, one or two initiates even looking like they had just rolled out of bed.
The office was cozy. Deborah’s oaken desk, of course, took up the majority of the room. The matriarch of their coven sat in an antique, green-cushioned wooden chair, behind a large desk. There was a laptop in front of her, a printer behind her, and a wired phone next to her, but that was the extent of the modernization that her office had undergone. All sorts of plants hung from the walls and adorned her desk, and the window next to the desk hung open to the sky. It overlooked the forest, and what Calypso suspected was the wellspring beyond. There was a sweet, cloying block of incense burning in the corner. Old spell books and grimoires lined Deborah’s shelves, and there was even one open on her desk. There was a map of the region behind her desk, too, covered in pins and dry erase dots. Portraits and pictures of previous leaders of the coven lined the wall, too, along with all the other things. Two chairs sat in front of her desk, but whoever had gotten here first had occupied them. Bummer. Better get here early next time. Deborah herself sat at the desk, looking businesslike in a blue blouse and a mid-length black skirt.
Now that everyone seemed to be in the room, Deborah cleared her throat loudly. Everyone stopped talking, her presence commanding attention. She smiled at the gathered witches. “Good morning, everyone. I hope it’s been a good few days since the ritual. The purpose of this summer is to fully integrate you into your lives as witches, and there are many aspects to the life that you’ve chosen. Magic is an art, yes, and one of the many parts of coven life is your fellow witches. Those are some of the best parts of our lives, and we take pride in them.” She took a deep breath in. “But, regretfully, there is darkness in our world. And another aspect of being a witch is your duty. Our duty. Our duty to snuff it out. This is how we protect the world. And it’s your turn now,” Deborah told them. The intensity in her voice made chills run up Calypso’s back.
With solemn eyes, she surveyed the faces of the room. “I’m giving you your first assignment today.” She took out a piece of paper, smoothing it across her desk. “Two weeks ago, a group of witches took down a large group of vampires in Washington, D.C. Our intelligence indicated that there were a smaller number of vampires than we actually found at the nest. We only assigned 10 witches to go, thinking there were only 15 or so vampires, but… we were wrong. There were, on estimate, more than 30 in the building. Our witches were overwhelmed, and we tragically lost two of our fellows.” Deborah held her hands in front of her face, saddened by what she had just had to say. “But, what pertains to you is that some of the vampires got away. A good fourth or a third or so, we’d say. They split up, leaving D.C and going somewhere else. We weren’t sure where until yesterday afternoon, when some rather suspicious news began to come out of places close to Washington D.C.
“We’re sending you after them. Left unchecked, vampires multiply quickly, which means they could get back up to their previous numbers in a matter of weeks if we’re not quick about this. Think of yourselves as… exterminators. You are not to leave a single vampire alive.” Deborah stood from her desk and grabbed the piece of paper, reading it. “You’ll be split into two groups for this. The first group will be going to Baltimore, Maryland, and will consist of Rebecca Delacroix, Iris Aderast, Dakota Lawson, Chester Thompson, Arken Stone, Calypso Barnes, Caleb Bishop, Alayna Castellano, and Hana Song. The second group will be heading to Gary, North Carolina, and will consist of Jeremy Lindall, Jean-Luc Laguerre, Cassandra Black, Rowan Moore, Summer Abernathy, Kate Shuang, Maggie Wilson, Isolde Morden, and Charlie Hamlyn.” Opening a drawer, Deborah pulled out two large manila folders. She slid them across the desk. “These are folders full of information about the places you’re going, the vampires you’re hunting, and instructions for field procedure. There’s only one per group, so be careful with it.”
Seeing no one else looking to take it, Calypso shuffled forward and took the file off of the desk, tucking it under her arm. Vampires? Well… she hadn’t exactly been ready for that. Didn’t they suck blood? Just the thought made her want to vomit a little… The folder on Baltimore was fat, heavy. But Calypso noticed that the other folder, the one on Gary, North Carolina, was pretty small compared to the one she was holding.
“Well, there it is. Everything you need to know is in those files. I just need you all to remember that there are real stakes here. This is not a game. These creatures have killed and would do so again providing the opportunity. Be careful. Please,” Deborah told the initiates, emotion in her voice. “You should all be gone by 2:00. This assignment will probably take more than a few days, so I’d recommend you pack clothes, toiletries, supplies… whatever. I’ve set up each group with hotel rooms. 2 for each group, and I expect you will all separate yourselves appropriately." Deborah took a moment to glare meaningfully at the newly minted witches before carrying on. "Information on hotels is in the folders, along with general information about the places you’ll be going. And about vampires. You’ll call the house twice each day to update us. The phone number is also in that folder.” She sat again, clasping her hands on her desk. Calypso noticed that she seemed worried. “Good luck, godspeed, and good hunting. May the spirits bless you and your magic run true. You’re dismissed.”
With that, the initiates filed out of her office, a low, anxious chatter rising. Calypso’s head was spinning. Vampires? Their first assignment? She’d have to fight and everything. This all seemed a bit much, but, as she reminded herself often, she could do it. She would succeed. And hopefully not die.
“Group 1, over here! I’ve got the folder,” she called to her fellow group members, who would hopefully all file over there. “Baltimore, Baltimore… it’s an alright city,” she told everyone. “I’ve only been twice, though. Let’s take a look at this folder.” Calypso cracked open the manilla folder, flipping through the pages. There were a lot of pages. Most were on vampires, but Calypso was looking for something different. “So, it seems they’ve had a string of grave robberies and night assaults followed by death of a mysterious sickness. Indicative of vampires, it says. We’re supposed to be staying at the La Quinta Inn. Sister Deborah rented us… two rooms? But there’s 9 of us? And we have an allowance for food and stuff. And tips for what to bring from the armory. We have an armory?” Calypso blinked, surprised by all this new information.
Meanwhile, whoever opened the folder for Gary, North Carolina would find a dissimilar lack of information. Gary was a small town of around 2,000 people in eastern North Carolina. There didn’t really seem to be a reason for why vampires would even be attracted there- it was small, populated mainly by workers at the nearby coal plant. But it had had a similar string of incidents in the past week or so, so vampires were definitely there. The same general information and recommended list of supplies was in that folder, along with the same allowance and information about where they would be staying- the Williamson’s Inn.
“I have a car. I can drive us all, if nobody else can,” Calypso offered. It might take her a bit of effort to make the car’s size on the inside a bit bigger, but she didn’t see anybody else with a car. “Let’s all meet up by my car at 1:30. It’s the yellow Jeep. Pack up and maybe get some of this stuff from the armory, and then we’ll be all set to go to Baltimore!”
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